


There's A Tense Understanding Between Love And Hate

by nothing_rhymes_with_ianto



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-10
Updated: 2012-05-10
Packaged: 2017-11-06 22:48:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/424111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothing_rhymes_with_ianto/pseuds/nothing_rhymes_with_ianto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Owen and Ianto walk the line.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's A Tense Understanding Between Love And Hate

They’ve been poking and prodding and pushing at each other since the beginning.  
  
When Ianto shot Owen, they thought maybe there’d be some sort of release. Some sort of mutual letting go. A knowledge of the similarities of their pain. But after Jack leaves they’re back to shoving and pulling and grating.  
  
Owen nags until Ianto slams the empty tray down and leans heavily against the table.  
  
“I’m _tired_.”  
  
And Owen just stops. Because he _knows_. He really does. He’s tired too, and he doesn’t know what to do. There’s so much pent up inside of them both, so much betrayal and guilt and anger and sadness and a feeling of loss the others could never understand. Owen knows that. He’s exhausted, just like Ianto.  
  
Later that night he goes round to Ianto’s flat. He’s slightly tipsy and full to the brim with depression and resentment and quite a bit of self-loathing that he’d never admit to aloud.  
  
Ianto punches him in the jaw once, then pulls him into the flat and shoves him onto the sofa, handing him a beer. They sit beside each other in silence, uncommonly close, knees touching. Ianto sips his own bottle. Owen examines Ianto’s face, notices the dark smudges under his eyes, the pale skin, the swollen pull of his mouth. He’s about to ask if he’s all right, if he’s been sleeping, when Ianto turns his head and catches him.  
  
Owen moves first, and he’s not entirely sure why. Ianto pushes back against him, hesitant at first, but his lips part and they’re battling for dominance once more.  
  
They stop to breathe, foreheads pressed together, arms holding, fingers somewhere between a clutch and a caress. They pant into each other’s mouths.  
  
“I _hate you_.” Ianto mutters, lips brushing, breath sliding.  
  
Owen knows that, too.


End file.
